A Table for Nine

Some missionary friends of ours came and delivered a special envelope to us while we were in Haiti.  I was shocked too learn that my oldest daughter had submitted a short story that she had written called "A Table for Nine," to a writing contest. She won first place for her short story and when she read it to me....I seriously balled my eyes out.  She received a check for her reward and I laughed through my tears as she said, "Mom, I am using this money to take you to dinner so I can introduce you to your husband...a table for three please!"   So this blog is going to feature her unedited version of the short story..."A Table for Nine." 

This is a sneak peak of Chapter 1 from our book coming out called: Table For Nine

The Night I Met My Father

by Mackenzie Elyse and family

I will never forget the first day with my adoptive family. My mother told us she was taking us to a fancy restaurant for a “family night.” I remember walking into this classy restaurant and hearing her say, "A table for nine, please.” I was a bit confused, because I counted, and there were only seven adopted kids, plus one single momma. I had heard my new mom was a bit eccentric, so I just thought this was one of her moments. Shouldn't we have gotten a table for eight? I thought to myself. I counted one more time, and was simply confused.

As we all sat down, my mom saved a place for someone right next to her. I began looking around, wondering who in the world was meeting us for dinner. Who was joining us for our “family night?" At the time, I was too scared to even talk, so I just sat there curiously, wondering what was going on and expecting someone to join us for dinner. My mother ordered the food, smiling and carrying on as if nothing was wrong. She began to seriously get on my nerves, and then I couldn't take it anymore. I had to find out who she was saving the seat for. I will never forget the words that came out of her mouth. "Kids, I want to introduce you to your Father. I have invited Him to have dinner with us tonight, and would like to tell you all about Him."

I was shocked. I thought my new mother was single! I quickly glanced back at the door, expecting a man to walk in. I was stunned as my mother began to talk about a man who would never leave or forsake us. She talked about His heart and His character. She began to describe how He had saved her life, and continued telling us all about Him. She said she would like to introduce Him to us. I will never forget that moment. The tears just fell from my eyes. I had become so numb, and this was the first time I could feel again.

As she began to describe who He was, I felt as if I had already met Him. It was a familiar feeling. I can’t describe it, but there were many (and I mean many) nights when I lay bleeding and in pain, and yet felt His presence. I had wanted so much to just die, so that the pain would stop. When I say “pain,” I mean severe pain. My body was used as a cutting board. I not only felt physical pain, as my biological parents would do horrors to me, but I felt such deep heart pain. There were many nights when I felt as if someone was carrying me, keeping me warm, and whispering words of hope into my ear. I then realized, as my mother began to describe this person she had saved a seat for, this man she claimed to be my father, was the same person who had held me, wiped my tears, and mended my open wounds.

That night, in a restaurant in Tulsa, Oklahoma, I met a Man who has forever changed my life. He has truly healed me. He is my Father and my Doctor. With tears I accepted Jesus into my heart that night. I will never forget the evening when God came to dinner with us and I officially met Him. I will never forget the prayer and tears streaming down my newly adoptive mother's face as she introduced us to the Man who had once healed her as well. I will never forget the embrace I received from my mother – I didn’t want to

let her go. I didn't just feel her arms around me, but God's arms. When she prayed and cried over me, I promise you this, I saw my Father God in her eyes. I didn’t just get adopted by a new family – I got adopted by a Father who knows how many hairs are upon my head. To think that I was once the abused child whose story was plastered all over national television.


I will never forget the day my caseworker told my mom not to adopt me because I was too old, too much work, and too sick. I will never forget turning on the news and hearing the reporter say I had one of the most severe cases of sexual abuse, in which the child actually survived, that she had ever heard of. I remember listening to my teacher as she told my mom that I was considered mentally retarded because I couldn’t read or write at age eleven. I remember listening to my foster parents whisper about how “homely” looking I was, and how messed up my body and teeth were. I remember when my peers at school would tell me they weren’t allowed to play with me because they were afraid to catch a disease or that I would hurt them.

I write this to say that God still performs signs, wonders, and miracles. I am now a daughter of the King. I was once lost, but now I am found. I was ashes turned into beauty. I was once damaged and broken, and now am restored and whole. God is reaching His hands out to you today. He has seen your tears, He has cried with you. Let him heal and restore you.

I will never forget the day when my mom said the words, “A table for nine, please.”